Touch Has a Memory
by summerartist
Summary: This is an exploration of touch between Malcolm and the crew of the Enterprise. All platonic.
1. Boop, Fix, and Hug

Author Notes: I found a writing prompt list on Tumblr having to do with touch. I think it was geared towards pairings but I loved the idea of trying to make them all awkwardly platonic. These are going to be frilly and fluffy as well as hurt/comfort-y because that's my gig.

Please let me know if you would like to see more of these.

* * *

-Booping the nose-

Trip lapsed into hearty guffaws. Malcolm's wide and shocked eyes made the indulgent little gesture worth it. If a Klingon had crept up and hit him over the head the Tactical Officer could not have looked more stunned. It was as if Trip had done something utterly foreign to him.

"You never had someone boop you on the nose?"

Trip had been teasing him. It was one of their usual bawdy conversations about crew fraternization during which they would fire their same old ammunition, about Trip getting entangled with various alien species and Malcolm becoming too nervous or busy to date one of his crewmates. Naturally, Malcolm had brought up the age-old argument of superior officers and subordinates not lingering well. Trip helpfully reminded him that there were different departments and MACOs to pursue.

"Then you need to get 'chur self a date." Trip had reached over and briefly tapped the tip of his friend's nose, which led to Malcolm looking at him as if the engineer had just accosted him in the most unusual manner.

Malcolm reached up and rubbed the side of his nose, blinking.

Trip watched the reaction with a smile that started to falter. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed a little sad that Malcolm had never been on the receiving end of casual affection. Sure Malcolm boasted of having relationships but the man was a contradiction in everything. He kept to himself on Enterprise. Perhaps too much so.

"At least go to movie night with Travis on Saturday. We missed you during the last one."

"I might if I'm done early in the armory."

"Malcolm..." Trip began in a part wheedling, part threatening tone.

The Tactical Officer rolled his eyes. Trip grinned, knowing that the reaction was as good as a yes.

* * *

-Putting on jewelry-

"You look stunning."

"Oh stop it," Hoshi tutted.

"You do. Am I not allowed to say anything?"

Hoshi was busy putting her hair up. "I'm a mess."

Malcolm huffed.

They stood in the transporter section of the hallway in some of their finest civvies. The Captain was already at the gathering speaking with the ambassador while awaiting his senior staff that had just returned from their away mission. Trip was trying to tame his hair and Travis was busy running a lint brush over his sleeves. Malcolm was dressed in a plain navy tunic with a high collar and formal trousers. Hoshi, who was the closest beside him, wore a fuchsia gown with sheer and shimmery textures. Gold trimming was sewn elegantly to the sleeves.

Hoshi made an exasperated sound.

"What is it?"

"I think I left my necklace in my quarters." She patted her bare neck.

Malcolm saw a glimmer on the side of her throat near the neckline of the gown. "I think the clasp came undone. You have something there." He pointed.

Hoshi patted her skin until she found the tiny lump of metal nestled lopsidedly at her throat.

"Oh!" She pulled the edge of it out of the gown and started to put it on, fumbling with the catch.

"We all ready?" Trip had managed to smooth down his hair and he stepped up to stand on the transporter pad with Travis. Travis rested his lint roller on the ground out of the way.

"Almost!" Hoshi called.

Malcolm watched her struggle with it a moment more before he stepped forward. "Here, allow me."

Carefully, he took the thin chain between his fingers. He rearranged the gold piece to rest more securely around her throat, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin. The smell of her flowery shampoo filled his senses. He latched the metal clasp, taking care to avoid tangling her fine strands of hair in it. He stepped back.

"Thanks."

Malcolm gave her a small smile and nod. Together, they stepped onto the transport platform. All four of them waited to be whisked away.

* * *

-Across the shoulder hug-

"He should be fine, Captain, as long as we return to the ship promptly."

Malcolm sat shivering on the back bench of the shuttlepod looking very cold and damp. His dark hair dripped on the grey metal floor and the blankets surrounding him. With shaking hands, Malcolm tried to arrange the covers more securely around his arms. Archer glanced over. He saw his feeble attempts and took over tucking his officer in snugly. Malcolm could not even muster up the energy to protest the attention. Archer draped an arm across his shoulders.

"What you did down there was very brave."

Finally Malcolm gave a waterlogged snort. "With all due respect Sir, I was a fool for jumping in. The guards could have pulled the child out if I had just told them. Instead I managed to end our first contact with this species."

"Oh I think we'll be seeing much more of them. They were impressed that your first instinct was to dive into the pool and save their children. After all, they sent us back early to make sure you were properly seen to."

"Really?" Malcolm blinked.

He had to admit that that part of their first contact had all been a blur. Malcolm remembered handing the child over and scrambling out of the icy water into the numbing breeze. He sat there for an indeterminate amount of time while his Captain spoke with the matriarch. At last he had been wrapped up in thermal blankets and heating pads from their shuttle and whisked away. Now he sat shivering miserably on the cold bench after Phlox had finished examining him.

Archer sat with him side by side on the bench, still keeping a hold on Malcolm's upper arm as he huddled up in his cocoon of blankets.

"Even if, for some reason, it had ended our contact with this species it was still very courageous," Archer added.

Malcolm shot him a brief comprehending glance. He nodded, silently accepting the compliment this time. It had been extremely difficult to jump into those dark waters and yet he had done so with hardly a moment's hesitation. The phobia that his father had tried to train him out of had no effect on him when someone else was in danger of drowning. The corner of Malcolm's mouth curled upward in wry amusement.

Archer's attention was attracted back towards the front as Travis gave them their ETA. Malcolm started to feel some warmth slowly seep back into him. The blankets did their job. They were meant to keep people toasty warm during the gravest emergency, but somehow, it was Archer's arm over his shoulders that seemed more warming.


	2. Share, Pull, and Kiss

-Sharing a drink-

The noise coming from inside the Captain's mess was thunderous. T'Pol's eyebrows rose as she picked up on the conversations happening within. Music that was badly out of tune was being belted out at intervals.

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Way hay and up she rises

Early in the morning!

Someone erupted into a coughing and laughing fit and the song paused long enough for the other voice to join in.

Put him in a long boat till he's sober

Put him in a long boat till he's sober-

T'Pol opened the door with a press of the door controls. She was met with the sight of three very tipsy humans and one blue flushed Andorian at the Captain's table. The atmosphere in the room appeared to be merry and inebriated.

"T'Pol!" Trip exclaimed happily.

"I was looking for the Captain." T'Pol addressed the room at large.

"He's in his quarters," Shran supplied.

"I see." The Vulcan studied her crewmates, reading the situation.

Her three crewmates and their guest were slumped slightly against the table with dreamy smiles on their faces. Shran appeared to be more sober, but only slightly.

"He wanted to check on Porthos but he said he'll be back in a minute if you wanted to wait with us," Hoshi told her.

"Yeah, Malcolm's teaching us some sea shanties. Though I knew that one." Trip grinned.

"No you didn't," Malcolm contested.

"Well not all of the lyrics, but I didn't grow up with the Navy family."

Malcolm neither confirmed nor denied but poured himself another shot of the blue liquid on the table. He swirled it around in the glass. Trip made a grab for it, briefly fumbling with the tactical officer's fingers. Malcolm snatched it out of reach at the last minute. T'Pol watched the childlike antics with barely concealed impatience. Even now Trip was sending Malcolm an anguished look.

"Aww Malcolm," Hoshi watched Trip wondering how the Tactical Officer could be so heartless as to ignore Trip's puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. But you still have a glass."

"It fell over."

Malcolm reluctantly relinquished the Andorian ale and Shran started to call for another song. The room erupted into jovial chaos again. T'Pol gave a silent sigh and stepped back out. She walked back through the hallway and went to go find her likely inebriated CO.

Sometimes she thought as if she may never quite understand the antics of humans and other species. At times like these she felt fortunate to have been born a Vulcan.

* * *

-Pulling into the lap-

Malcolm did not even have time to think. As the pirate walked perilously closer to the door frame he sprung into action. He had to prevent them from being detected and protect his crew mate. He clamped a hand over Travis's mouth and pulled him backward. To the helmsman's credit he did not even grunt as he was wrenched back into the shadows.

Malcolm kept a tight hold on him. The pirate paused, listening. Their reptilian species had weak hearing but they were rumored to have keen eyesight. The tactical officer could feel cold sweat form on his brow as they waited with baited breath for the alien to turn away. At last the creature huffed and walked past them. Malcolm exhaled. He felt Travis's fingers start prying at his hand over his mouth.

"Sorry," he muttered and quickly removed his hand.

Travis took in a deep quiet breath of air. After a moment of silent gasping he gently patted Malcolm's arm. Malcolm released his punishing grip around his waist. He had practically pulled Travis into his lap during his rush to protect him.

"You know..." Travis said quietly as they both straightened up. He was still rubbing the spot over his stomach where Malcolm had held onto him like a vice. "...if you wanted a hug all you had to do was ask."

Malcolm gave a dark little chuckle. He always appreciated Travis's way of making light of the situation. They kept to the back of the doorway until the pirate completely vanished. After the alien was gone they both dashed off to inform their captain.

* * *

-Kissing the cheek-

Trip smiled as he flipped through the stack of photographs taken with his antique camera. He was often looking for any excuse to unpack it out of its case. Free time was rare, especially now, but he had managed to break it out a couple of days ago for a certain friend's birthday.

Trip grinned as he came across his favorite photograph in the group. It was Malcolm surrounded by his crewmates receiving several kisses. Trip remembered asking his colleagues to 'give the Birthday boy some smooches' and they happily complied. Trip detected some hidden glee in the crowd. Flustering Malcolm was fun and everyone knew it.

Malcolm looked like a shy, introverted cat being petted by too many people. He would definitely keep a copy of that one. When he flipped to his next print out he blinked. He had a vague recollection of taking this one but the events that had transpired had happened so fast he did not realize he captured a reaction shot. It certainly made for great teasing ammunition.

Everyone had gradually pulled back from kissing Malcolm and a newcomer had entered the picture. Jon had left the Captain's mess and approached the ruckus in the mess hall. Seen in the photograph was Captain Archer giving his tactical officer a quick peck on the crown of the head. Everyone else in the shot was laughing. Archer had wished Malcolm a Happy Birthday and left the scene.

In the next shot Jon was gone and Malcolm was holding on to the top of his head with a slightly awed expression as if an angel had deigned to poke him there.

Well...perhaps he should not tease him about that one. Trip knew how hard Archer had worked to get Malcolm to relax the slightest bit around him. To him COs were like lofty deities that he dare not question.

Trip felt better knowing that through his hobby Jon had managed to show his affection for the other officer without offending him. Perhaps some teasing was acceptable. He suspected that Malcolm was at least a little proud for having earned his Captain's fond regard. Trip gave the photos one last smirk before he started making up copies. There was no way he was going to let Malcolm forget this Birthday.

* * *

tbc?


	3. Rest, Comfort, and Crawl

-Using shoulder as a pillow-

The Shuttlepod was hot and cramped. Archer was piloting them back while the rest of the crew held on to the walls, bracing for mild turbulence. Amidst the refugees they rescued there was no room for personal space.

Trip blinked and rubbed his eyes. He kept his arms tucked in awkwardly in the small compartment. Malcolm gave him a twitching smile. He had a slight twinkle in his eyes. Trip cocked an eyebrow.

It was fortunate that T'Pol had decided not to come down with the away team seeing how uncomfortable she was in tight spaces with various humanoids. None of the Enterprise crew was smelling their best either. Their uniforms were stained in various places, mainly along their backs and under their arms. They were all a bit grubby.

Malcolm jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Trip spotted a dark head resting against the back of Malcolm's shoulderblade. Travis had apparently made use of the tight space to find a human pillow. Trip quirked a small smile. The pilot was exhausted from helping out as evidenced from his current state and the fact that he was not presently piloting.

Malcolm did not seem to mind that he was being used as a living head rest. Trip would go so far as to say that he secretly enjoyed the camaraderie, even in close quarters like it was.

The Shuttlepod shook and strangers bumped into them. Trip braced himself a little more firmly. Malcolm grabbed on to a support strut with the opposite hand, keeping his back still. Travis slept on undisturbed.

* * *

-Rubbing circles into the back-

The room on Degra's ship was spartan, impersonal. It was like the quarters on Enterprise, save for the grungy brown walls instead of blue-grey. The lights were dim. Lieutenant Reed stepped into the room. He gaze was fixed on the mattress in the center of it and its occupant.

Malcolm walked over and quietly sat on the edge of the bed. He studied his friend. Hoshi's forehead was scarred in a spiderweb-like pattern and her skin had a sickly tint. Malcolm held the medicine Phlox had prepared for her in his palm. He toyed absently with the hypospray activation button.

"Hoshi?"

He waited to see if she should stir. She remained silent and motionless.

Malcolm carefully applied the hypospray to her neck, emptying the contents. Hoshi started.

Malcolm quickly withdrew his hand. "It's all right. You're safe."

Hoshi's dark gaze flicked up to him.

"Where am I?"

"We're on Degra's ship."

Hoshi sat up.

"The doctor said you should rest for the time being."

Hoshi's gaze roved over him and the room almost aimlessly as if she was unable to process her surroundings.

"What am I doing here?"

Malcolm's mouth twisted. "The Captain wanted to keep you with us. I'm supposed to look after you."

Hoshi's gaze flicked away dismissively, doubt already forming. Before she could cross examine the statement Malcolm interrupted her thoughts.

"Would you like some water?" He reached over held up the glass that had been on the bedside table. The liquid was a bit cloudy from the ship filtering process.

Hoshi shook her head. A deep frown started to show on her features.

"Rest, Hoshi. You need it."

Hoshi stared intently at the glass. Malcolm put it aside when she made no move to accept it. Admittedly he was at a loss and unwilling to break the silence. Hoshi was all huddled up on herself. She clutched the blankets around her uniform and her knees were raised in a defensive position.

Malcolm scooted slowly closer. He waited for her reaction. She stared off blankly as if hardly aware of his presence. Malcolm reached over and started to rub her back. Her stiff posture slumped the slightest bit. Emboldened by the response Malcolm started to rub her back in soothing circles. Hoshi gave a bitter sounding laugh.

"When I was done swearing at them in primate I switched to Klingon."

There was no need to ask what she was talking about.

A wry expression flickered across Hoshi's face at the memory of learning Klingon. She had picked up on the curse words first, much to everyone's surprise and eventual amusement. Even now it was not uncommon to hear whispered Klingon on the bridge whenever she was particularly frustrated.

After everything they had done to her they had been unable to take her language. She could hurt them with words even if she had nothing else. Malcolm's expression fell a little more as if sensing her bitter thoughts. He waited, casting around for something to say or do…

Hoshi seemed to make the decision for him. She patted his arm and started to work back the covers to settle down. Malcolm helped her when her hands shook. When she was laying horizontal again she exhaled and shut her eyes. Her fingers twitched. Her anger slipped back under the surface until she was lying in some semblance of peace. Malcolm sat with her until she fell asleep.

He did not know if his presence had any impact and or helped shoulder the burden. He simply stayed. Whether it was for Hoshi or for himself, he sat by her side and let the time slip by.

* * *

-Crawl into bed with-

Malcolm twitched awake. He lay in a sleeping bag atop the scorched decking of Enterprise. The air was chilly due to the recent life support malfunctions. The latest bombardment from the Reptilians had crippled them almost irreparably. All departments had been working around the clock on repairs until Malcolm had shooed off his crewmen to get some rest. To his surprise they had roped him into getting some shut eye as well.

The bunks that were set up in this quarter of the ship were prepared in a makeshift manner. Malcolm had joined the group on the floor and scooted his bag over by the doorway. This way he could keep an eye on who came in and went out. Trip would have probably called him paranoid if they had still been on speaking terms.

Something cold and wet brushed against his foot. Malcolm yanked his leg up, tensing while looking for the culprit at the foot of his bed. A small lump lay halfway under the covers. Malcolm could see brown-ish black fur and velvety ears.

"Porthos," Malcolm said tiredly.

In the back of his mind Malcolm realized that the dog had most likely crept out of Archer's room again. There had been damage to one of the bulkheads near to the Captain's quarters and no matter how Trip blocked it off Porthos always found a way to scamper out and wander this quarter of the ship's deck. Archer was probably out looking for his little dog, or perhaps the Captain was still asleep. Either way, Malcolm needed to return the Beagle to his master.

The Captain's dog rose to his feet and walked towards Malcolm's upper half, pausing to lick at his elbow. Malcolm grunted, patting the dog's head. He lay there in a sleepy haze. The Beagle flopped down on his side with him.

The dog was warm and his fur was exceptionally soft. Porthos made for well-behaved company much of the time. Malcolm could see why the Captain had taken a liking to the pup. The Tactical Officer drifted off before he could take a course of action in regards to Porthos. He was still exhausted and Porthos's quiet presence was acceptable, welcome even...

...Later that night the door to crew quarters slid open. No one stirred, not even a regularly alert security officer. There was a pause as if someone was pondering, considering. A soft voice called for Porthos and the little Beagle darted back through the open door. The soft skitter of Porthos's claws slowly faded down the corridor.


	4. Check, carry, and take

-Hip check-

For a moment Trip felt tempted to hum along to the faint music in the distance. He stood by the shuttlepod waiting for the away team to arrive. It was a quiet balmy evening and the swell of the music echoed loudly across the hilly outlook. The upbeat songs were heavy with percussion and rhythm and he found himself twitching a little to the beat.

He suddenly wished that he had gone to the conference after all. There would have been good food (no offense to chef) and sampling of new alien cultures. He had declined Archer's offer to take him with them, claiming to have too much work to do in engineering. If he was honest with himself it had been an excuse. There would be officers and dignitaries dressed in formal clothing. Everyone would be chatting near the drinks tables about nonsensical things, like what people were wearing and how good the party was. His idea of socializing was almost the opposite. His idea of enjoyment was knocking back a beer with Malcolm and Jon and telling humorous stories or griping about a busy day.

He heard faint footfalls rising over the hill. He squinted in the near darkness, trying to pick out who was approaching. He saw the silhouettes of three familiar people walk over the remaining distance to his location. Jon was in the lead and Malcolm and Hoshi trailed by in his wake.

Trip smiled. "You folks have a good time? You're earlier than expected."

All three of them had drawn close enough for the engineer to read their expressions. First he saw Jon, and Trip could tell that the Captain was trying his damnedest to suppress a grin. Secondly he saw Malcolm. The armory officer's uniform was splattered with something. The splotches on were in varying colors all over the blue fabric. Malcolm had his head bowed slightly as he avoided his eyes. Lastly, Hoshi's face showed a variety of emotions, mostly settling on glee.

"There was an incident..." Jon did not sound overly concerned. His eyes held a faint twinkle like they did when Porthos did something amusing.

Trip could smell the sweetness now. The scent would have been almost cloying if not for the slight breeze wafting by them in the dark. Malcolm raised his head. The Tactical Officer's expression gave nothing away.

"What's Malcolm got all over him?"

Again Hoshi and Jon's expressions quirked upward. Trip had a feeling he had stumbled upon a private joke.

"Our dessert," Jon said plainly. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction.

Hoshi made an odd little noise. Knowing that he was being kept deliberately in the dark Trip nearly crossed his arms.

"What happened down there?"

This time Reed answered him. "There was a diplomatic incident but it was resolved."

Hoshi's eyebrow rose in a T'Pol-like manner. The expression on Trip's face silently ordered them to fill him in.

"Hoshi hip checked Malcolm into a dessert table."

The outdated phrase confused Trip for a moment before he remembered its meaning.

"I was trying to persuade Malcolm to dance," Hoshi explained calmly. "It was expected of us when the ambassadors from Earth were dancing as well. I just gave him a nudge."

"You nearly knocked over Ambassador Xando. I would have hardly called it a nudge," Malcolm reminded her.

Considering Hoshi had once broken a guy's arm over a secret poker ring Trip had no trouble believing Hoshi had knocked Malcolm over.

Jon attempted to fill the awkward silence. "I'm sure you'll be happy to know that it was unanimously perceived as an accident by our hosts. They said we'll be invited back tomorrow, but they'll be placing the dessert table more strategically."

Malcolm choked back half a snort. His face started to show some of the mirth that had been hiding in the slants of his eyebrows and the twist of his mouth. It seemed that Malcolm could find humor at something at his own expense after all. Trip finally permitted himself a real smile when he saw a near approximation of one on the Lieutenant's face.

"Ready to go home?" Trip asked them warmly. He held an arm out invitingly towards the open shuttle door.

Jon nodded. "I think so."

The engineer stepped out of the way as the three climbed in. He could already hear Hoshi giggling about something and Malcolm scolding her teasingly. Trip smirked and shut the hatch.

* * *

\- Carrying while half asleep -

The lighting around Malcolm flickered in and out in shades of gold. His eyelids were drooping like lead weights as he fought to keep them open. Voices filtered distantly through the buzzing in his ears. There was the slip-slap of vegetation as if the people around him were walking through a dense patch of flora.

He remembered feeling like this before with his whole body numb and a distant sleepy feeling. Here he felt warmer than he usually did in a cold and sterile environment. Phlox's voice was normally babbling to him in an effort to put him at ease as he was quickly dragged into artificial slumber. There was no swift winking out of consciousness this time though. His mind fumbled about trying to find out why these events were different. He was being kept on the edge of almost-slumber in a twilight world that had bourn him away. He floated and bobbed along, only sinking into wakefulness in sporadic bursts.

He slowly became aware of fabric beneath him and strong shoulders bearing his weight. His fuzzy mind told him that it was someone familiar walking with him slung across their shoulders. He squinted and tried to focus his eyes. He saw camouflage. It was a MACO.

Reed let his eyes fall shut. As much as having the MACOs aboard the Enterprise chafed at his pride he could not deny that he trusted them to help the others to the best of their (limited in his opinion) ability if they got in a tight spot. His memory set itself on rewind as it hazily tried to recall events. He remembered smelling something strong, passing out… had he been attacked?

His brow furrowed as he fuzzily recalled a MACO catching him. He could not come up with a face but he had had a couple of MACOs with him. He groaned as a spike of pain pierced his skull. Whatever he had inhaled had left some residual effects.

He heard a voice mutter, "easy, Lieutenant."

The familiar voice made the distant memories resurge. He had been close to a rather unusual smelling plant. He knew about some of the toxic vegetation on Earth but this one was swift acting and almost indistinguishable from the rest except for the unusual smell. He had scoped it out thinking it might have been an animal. The Xindi ruins they had found had been close to their location. The Captain had been hopeful they would find the occupants they had been hoping to meet close by.

Two MACOs in his away team had followed him and soon one of them noted that he was feeling light headed with the scent. McKenzie had a cold so she said she could smell nothing. Malcolm had gotten close and taken an inadvertent whiff.

After that his recollections were muddled. He remembered his team going to get help from a team nearby, a team with their leader.

Reed nearly let out another miserable groan. It was typical of his luck.

Hayes must be on his way back to the shuttle with his barely conscious cargo slung over shoulders. Malcolm tried to squirm. His limbs felt rubbery and unresponsive. He tried several more times until he exhaled and gave up. Hayes had a rock solid grip and Malcolm might as well have tried to move a mountain with the futility of it.

Still...if his mind had been more aware he might have noted how quickly and carefully Hayes bore him. He might have noticed how Hayes' breathing was strained from carrying his heavy muscular weight, or how the MACO was soaked in sweat. He could have picked up on how Hayes' voice sounded tight when he spoke to him or how he said not a single antagonistic or impatient word.

Malcolm drifted off into the twilight world again easily. He knew, trusted, that Hayes would bring him back to the shuttle and deposit him inside. It was in his trust of Hayes that he at least knew he would do his duty, however lost it was on him that Hayes did it well.

* * *

\- Taking up the seat they are in-

T'Pol held a cup of tea in her hands. Her hands were lined and the veins were slightly prominent as they normally became with age, premature in her case. Her features echoed the serenity and contentment that usually Vulcan faces could not properly communicate. The years had been kind to her despite her turbulent life. She wore deep red Vulcan robes. Malcolm suspected that they had been her mother's. She met Jon's eyes as he spoke. The Captain had set down his drink and talked excitedly about a system's inhabitants they had encountered just a week ago.

Untouched student papers sat on a table off the side during their visit. Malcolm took a sip of the Vulcan tea variety that had T'Pol's own twist. It held pleasantly mild spices similar to cinnamon and peppermint.

Malcolm's mind wandered, only occasionally chipping in from the sidelines as his Captain and former superior talked. The sunlight glowed dully outside through the tinted window alighting on the indoor plants as the sun sank in the sky. It gleamed on his wedding band and Jon's silvery one that he wore only out of habit anymore. T'Pol's fingers were bare and seemed freer for it. The Captain smiled as he came to a funny story about one of the new senior officers.

Captain...it seemed still a little strange to know that soon he would be taking on that title. He was prepared, but yet he knew that he never be fully prepared. He once again nudged the thought out of his mind as he just let himself live in the moment. Here he was sitting comfortably on the bench opposite to his host. The furnishings were plush and elaborate with dashes of modernism thrown in. In fact, the wall behind him was almost an Enterprise gray. It had a matte finish that shone softly in the low light. Soft footfalls sounded across the various rugs on the floor. Malcolm turned. His heart shot up in his throat as he did a double take.

Dark eyes surveyed him almost skeptically as the being approached. T'Pol's gaze shone with sudden warmth. Jon seemed to fidget but otherwise he stayed still.

"Do not be alarmed. It is a Sehlat."

The giant creature stalked towards Malcolm. He fought to keep his body language loose and non-threatening as the large bear-cat creature came forward. It walked with casual grace and hopped lightly onto the bench Malcolm and Jon were occupying. Malcolm swallowed and nearly slid off as a wet nose brushed the shell of his ear. Air whuffed so close to his face that he could smell the stale breath of the Sehlat.

"He will not harm you. He is merely familiarizing himself with your scent."

She seemed unwilling to call off her gigantic pet – presuming that it could be called off. It appeared to be curious about them. It sniffed over Jon and Malcolm and then ceased its questioning behavior when it had taken full stock of them. Jon started asking general questions about her pet, like when she had gotten it, what its name was, etc.

Malcolm was concentrating on not losing his nerve with a large predator looming over him. Its thick fur was musky like a dog's and its large teeth gleamed white in the dimness. It exhaled and stretched.

Malcolm's cup ended up on the floor where the pottery remained resiliently intact. Many pounds of weight lay across his lap. The Sehlat had stretched out overtop his legs. Malcolm blinked, uncertain how to respond to the cuddly animal.

"You may pet him," T'Pol told him.

The Vulcan had neglected to tell them that her Sehlat was used to alien visitors lavishing attention on him. Phlox was particularly fond of her new pet.

It took several minutes for Malcolm to become brave enough to rub and scratch the top of its head. It leaned into the touch and Jon joined in scratching it behind its ears. Their conversation continued on. They only stopped talking when the sun vanished beyond the horizon.


End file.
